


Warmth

by HolisticThiam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolisticThiam/pseuds/HolisticThiam
Summary: The mixtape has been acting strange.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Warmth

A wooden bar door shuts behind Castiel as he walks out to a parking lot. He’s struck by a strong wind making him shiver. After putting on his pompom beanie and tightening his scarf, he shoves his gloved hands into his coat pockets. The cold, another reminder that he’s human. Last week, he caught a cold due to a lack of proper attire. Sam and Dean bought him hats, scarfs, coats, and gloves. He despises them. All these layers of clothing make him feel clunky compared to how he moved in his agile trenchcoat. Although, after a week of a horrible burning sensation in his throat and a reindeer nose (Dean's words) he agrees that it's for the better.

Being sick did have some perks though. Dean made him soup and he got to watch old movies with the brothers. It meant more time to reflect on certain things he never experienced before such as how much he enjoyed Dean’s company. Sure, he knew he felt different about Dean than he did about others but he never got to feel it so completely. All his emotions were dulled by his grace so now that it's gone the small tug inside him when he was around Dean was ripping him apart. The problem was he didn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. 

When Castiel first brought it up to Sam, the latter smirked. “I’ve been waiting,” Sam said. 

For weeks, they had long conversations in which Sam attempted to explain to the poor ex-Angel what he was feeling. Sam enlightened Castiel on Dean’s complicated ways of showing he loved someone which revolved around making them think he hates them. Castiel would walk away a little less perplexed every time, grateful for Sam’s help. Sam was kind enough to keep it a secret, but it should be said that he has the good fortune of having a very oblivious brother. Sam, less than discreetly, wiggled his eyebrows at Castiel during movie nights when Dean sat especially close to him. Dean occasionally noticed and gave them confused glances. Sam would act clueless while Castiel would sink deep into the couch. Sometimes, after catching Sam, Dean asked them if they wanted to sit together. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed only leaving Dean even more in a haze. Dean snuggled even closer to Castiel those nights. Then, Sam began calling them variations of their names grouped together (Deancas, Destiel: his favorite, Casdean, Castieldean) which caused a massive uproar from Dean (“I thought I clearly told you to shut up about that Sam!”). And, to be certain he could keep giving them ship names (“It's internet slang,  _ Dean. _ ”), he often paired them together during hunts. Unfortunately, things went sour. Sam figured that Dean must have been on his push-away-everyone-you-love-bullshit again because Castiel started wanting to hunt alone. He had conversations with Castiel which summed up to: “I don't think he wants me around.”. He let Castiel hunt by himself. Maybe some time apart will make Dean realize what he's doing to Castiel, or not. Dean's aggravating like that.

And then, another problem surfaced: Dean's mixtape. It wasn't until Castiel went on solo hunts and took it with him that he discovered its strange habit. It changed temperature. He realized this after multiple phone calls with Dean. During the call, it grew warm, but after they hung up, it progressively decreased in temperature. He wondered if it would do the same with Sam but it didn't.

Castiel had never realized how important the tape was to Dean. He had only considered it as Dean trying to keep Castiel company while he was away but it went way beyond that. Dean put so much of his heart and soul into it that they were seeping out through the tape. Depending on how Dean was feeling, it was keeping him warm or making him cold. And he suspected, but never let himself be certain that it was how he felt about him.

Dean and Castiel hadn't been seeing each other much lately but Dean always made sure they went out together once a week. He had even started asking Castiel if he could join him on certain cases recently. As they were conversing in a booth tonight, Dean was all smiles and quite talkative. He rattled on about his recent case which Castiel listened to intently. By the end of the night, Castiel was a little tipsy as he talked amply about his latest case involving witches. Dean observed him with the fondest eyes. “You’re so cute,” Dean let slip. Once he realized what he had just said, he went scarlet. “I . . . I have to go to the bathroom.” He got in before Castiel could say a word. Castiel saw him walking away but knew he was not going to the bathroom, he was going outside. He paid for their drinks and left too. All night the mixtape had burned red hot in his coat pocket and Castiel hadn't wanted to ruin that. And yet, as Castiel stands outside the bar, the tape feeling like a dying fire, he thinks that maybe he did anyway.

He spots Dean sat alone on the hood of the Impala staring out at the dark and silent parking lot. The streetlights fixate on his solitude and attempt in vain to bring warmth to his blue demeanor. Castiel watches him attentively as he walks towards the Impala. Dean breathes small ephemeral clouds into the winter air. He sniffles and lets out occasional coughs. Whatever caught his eye has his unwavering focus and Dean doesn’t seem to hear Castiel approaching him but he knows better. When Castiel arrives next to him, Dean sighs quietly and the mixtape grows warmer like a mini heater in Castiel's coat pocket. Dean hides his mittened hands in his pockets pushing them out as if guiding Castiel towards what he’s contemplating.

Castiel doesn’t have to search long for what’s captivating Dean’s attention. Across the small parking lot, there’s a brightly lit diner. Inside, a man and a woman talk excitedly forgetting the food they ordered. That’s when Castiel sees something else in Dean’s eyes, longing and unlike most times, it’s not subtle. It’s rare to see Dean showcase his emotions so freely. Most of the instances he’s like this are when he’s angry and even then he tries to hold it in.

“Cas? Can we stay here a while longer? I know it’s cold but . . . ”

The woman makes wild gestures and the man explodes with laughter. Castiel watches Dean's eyes crinkle.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Castiel says.

Dean hums in agreement, not taking his eyes off the pair. They both stay silent for a while, watching. He turns his head to look down at Castiel who’s now leaning against the headlights of the Impala inches away from him.

“We can’t have that,” Dean whispers. “You, me, Sam.”

Dean looks back at the couple bitterly. He isn’t simply observing the couple, wishing he were them, Dean’s window shopping. He’s getting a taste of something he believes he will never have. The mixtape cools down.

“Maybe we can.”

Dean glances at Castiel, surprised.

“Have you seen our lives? No, we can’t.”

“Well, I disagree,” Castiel states.

“Of course you do.” Dean chuckles fondly but then he stiffens. His eyes widen and his lips part. “Wait? Did you find someone?” He says transforming his face into a smirk. He studies Castiel, trying to solve the mystery himself. Castiel doesn’t give any clues but, to Dean, his silence is one. The mixtape suddenly drops in temperature. “So that's why you don't want me joining you on cases. I thought it was because I annoyed you. Sorry about that by the way. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I miss you on the road you know. Sam’s good company but it's nice when you're there too . . . And I was kinda hoping that I wouldn't have to solve too many cases alone anymore.” He looks at Castiel with shy eyes.

Castiel has trouble taking it all in and doesn't know what to say. “Anyways, who’s the lucky lady . . . or guy? I don’t judge,” Dean asks. He grins but his face resembles two mismatched puzzle pieces forced together.

Castiel looks at the couple who’s finally eating. They have rosy cheeks from all their laughter.  His silence begins to worry  Dean. “Cas?”

The mixtape is freezing now. Castiel shivers.

“Cas, you wanna go home?” Dean asks.

“No, I want to stay,” Castiel answers.

Dean frowns, concerned that he might have upset Castiel with his declarations.

Castiel slightly unzips his coat and pulls out the freezing mixtape.

“Is that?” Dean asks. His mouth opens slightly from shock. “You . . . carry it around with you?”

In his hand, the once freezing mixtape becomes warm. Castiel gets up from the hood of the Impala and stands in front of Dean. Castiel peers up at him. Discovering that Castiel carries the mixtape around with him revived joy in Dean’s eyes, but he’s still clearly crestfallen. Castiel knows to treat Dean's words like fragile packages and to handle them with care.

Dean looks down at his thighs to avoid eye contact. His lips are pursed and he’s biting his lower lip in an apparent tactic to keep himself together. He thinks he has already said too much but he wants to say more. He's tired of pushing people away. Castiel might have found someone and he's so damn happy for him but the mixtape gives him hope. It's making it difficult to repress his fondness for Castiel any longer. And yet, he stays silent.

Castiel sighs. “Dean, why is it every time we get close you push me away? I care about you and it hurts to be pushed back and forth. If you care about me, tell me.”

Dean doesn't say a word but he stops biting his lower lip. His constrained face loosens and he meets Castiel's gaze.

“I always carry it with me when I’m hunting by myself,” Castiel says. Dean has soft features now. His lips part. “I've been hunting alone because I didn’t understand what was happening to me. All these feelings came rushing at me. I was scared.” Castiel holds the mixtape up between both of them. He looks at it with wide eyes. “But the songs, they helped, they sang what I couldn't figure out; they sang what I wasn’t able to say but now can. Whenever I listened to the tape, I felt like you were there beside me. It was comforting. I want that. I want you.”

Dean’s cheeks burn red. He grins as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. His knees are pressed against each other. He’s making himself smaller, hiding. “You know, they’re about you, the songs,” Dean mutters looking away from Castiel, at the bar. Castiel smiles at Dean.

“Well, now they’re about us.”

Dean pulls his hands out of his pockets and scoots over to the left side of the hood making room for Castiel. “Come here,” He says softly. Castiel climbs onto the hood and sits beside him. Dean wraps his left arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulls him close. They glance inside the diner but the couple isn’t there anymore. In fact, the diner is closed. The mixtape burns in Castiel’s gloved hands. Dean places his right hand over them and hums happily. They’ve never felt so warm on such a cold winter’s night.

  
  
  
  



End file.
